


Scraped Knees Protocol

by ssssssssssssssssssspiderboi



Series: Tony's Protocols [4]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Broken Bones, Couch Cuddles, Domestic Fluff, Family Fluff, Gen, Human Disaster Peter Parker, Hurt, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Tony Stark Coparenting Peter Parker, Michelle Jones Is a Good Bro, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Pre-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Precious Peter Parker, Protective May Parker (Spider-Man), Teen Peter Parker, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Worried May Parker (Spider-Man)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 06:35:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18805699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssssssssssssssssssspiderboi/pseuds/ssssssssssssssssssspiderboi
Summary: “Hey, hey, hey!” Peter yelped, barely avoiding the machines. “Watch it! You could really hurt someo--” The wind was then knocked out of him by one of the four arms, sending the Spider-Man flying face-first against the opposite wall. Peter hadn’t had enough time to react to his spidey-sense that attempted to warn him of the oncoming danger, but he had managed to stick his hands out to try and protect his face. It turned out to be a fruitless effort, because not only did Peter still hit his face on a brick that jutted out-- more specifically, his right eye and the area around it-- but his wrist made a sickening snap sound upon impact.Peter groaned and moaned as he fell off and onto the ground below, almost seeming the bounce a little as he hit. “Ow…” He knew he should be getting up and trying to web up the doctor, but god, did everything ache.





	Scraped Knees Protocol

**Author's Note:**

> I expected this to be 2k. It was not.

“Hold still, you insufferable Araneae!”

 

Spider-Man swung back and forth, dodging large mechanical arms desperately trying to get a hold of him by a hair and occasionally, if he felt cocky, doing little aerial tricks. “C’mon, Doc. You know that’s not how the game works,” he quipped. “You have to _catch_ me. It’d be cheating if I let you, and what fun is that?”

 

Doc Oct scowled as he tried to out-think the jumping spider in order to catch him. “Are you ever quiet, boy?”

 

Peter landed on a building’s wall, hand over his heart as he faked being offended. “Excuse me, it’s Spider- _Man_ , not Spider- _Boy_ , Mister Doctor. How dare you?” He jumped out of the way of a few mechanical arms. “And why are you complaining? You’ve got four extra limbs on me, you should be winning!”  Webs shot from the spider vigilante’s wrists and tied two of the octopus arms together. “Then again, it also says something about you that despite your advantages, I’m still kind of winning.”

 

“Shut the hell up!” Octavius screamed. In his rage, the man mechanical arms went into a frenzy. They jutted out and were now flailing wildly. There wasn’t a strategic flow of movements anymore as Doctor Octopus usually had-- he was just trying to knock the annoying hero out of his way in any way he could, damaged arms or not.

 

“Hey, hey, hey!” Peter yelped, barely avoiding the machines. “Watch it! You could really hurt someo--” The wind was then knocked out of him by one of the four arms, sending the Spider-Man flying face-first against the opposite wall. Peter hadn’t had enough time to react to his spidey-sense that attempted to warn him of the oncoming danger, but he had managed to stick his hands out to try and protect his face. It turned out to be a fruitless effort, because not only did Peter still hit his face on a brick that jutted out-- more specifically, his right eye and the area around it-- but his wrist made a sickening snap sound upon impact.

 

Peter groaned and moaned as he fell off and onto the ground below, almost seeming the bounce a little as he hit. “Ow…” He knew he should be getting up and trying to web up the doctor, but god, did everything ache.

 

“Stay out of my way, boy,” Octavius warned, lowering himself down to the ground. “Or next time, I won’t be so merciful.” Peter could hear one of the mechanical octopus arms being raised. “And one more thing-- _I win._ ” With that, he felt a sharp, swift wack to the back of his head, and everything went dark.

 

* * *

  

**“--eter. Peter. I am going to be forced to contact Mister Stark if you do not respond in twenty-three seconds.”**

 

The boy, just as he did before losing consciousness, groaned as he came to. It took him a moment to understand what Karen said, but when he did, he quickly went to dissuade her from doing as she threatened. “‘M up, I’m.. I’m up,” Peter assured, rolling onto his back as the alleyway loomed above him. “Ow… How long was I out for?”

 

**“Four minutes and thirty-five seconds,”** Karen answered. **“How are you feeling?”**

 

“Could be better,” He sat up. “Everything kinda aches, ‘specially my wrist, face, and pride.”

 

**“I don’t recognize ‘pride’ as apart of the body that could have been damaged by hitting a wall. Should I run another scan?”**

 

“No no,” Peter shook his head slowly. “I mean, like, I was..um, I was talking all this smack to Doc, and then he literally KO-ed me. Like my ego took a beatin’.”

 

**“Oh, I see,”** You could hear the understanding in her automated voice. **“Besides your ego, it seems as though you have broken your right wrist and will most likely have a black eye come morning from how your face hit the wall.”**

 

“Yaaaay,” Peter celebrated sarcastically. He slowly stood himself up, leaning against a wall and gently clutching his apparently broken wrist.

 

**“I will have to send the injury reports to Mister Stark.”**

 

“No, no, no,” the spider insisted. “You don’t have to send anything over to Mister Stark. Or my aunt. Or anyone. I’m gonna be fine, just need to wait for my  healing factor to kick in. That’s all.”

 

Karen hesitated, seeming to debate which took priority-- the part of her programming that had her adapt to Peter and what made him happy, or the part designed to ensure his safety.

 

“Just this once?” he pleaded.

 

**“Just this once.”** she agreed.

 

“Karen, thank you. You are the best!”

 

**“I’m not hiding the injury status, just not alerting Mister Stark. If he checks or asks, he’ll know.”**

 

“That’s fine. I’ll just take the blame if he finds out and gets mad.”

 

**“Oh, you will.”**  The AI confirmed. **“You should be getting home now, Peter. Your aunt’s set curfew is coming up in six minutes. Eleven minutes, if you count the five minute grace window.”**

 

“Right, yeah,” Peter walked up the side of the wall so he’d have some pre-established height when he started swinging again. “Thanks for reminding me.”

 

**“Of course.”**

 

Almost immediately, Peter discovered that trying to use his right hand to shoot webs brought forth a shooting pain into his wrist-- not to mention how his fingers didn’t even move that much--  so he had to stick to just using his left. It was a little tricky, truthfully, but the hero managed. He just had to be more careful and not pull any stunts. Sure, it took most of the fun out of swinging, but that would just have to do for now.

 

Peter crawled back in through his window about three minutes into his grace period, exhausted at this point. He probably could have gotten to the apartment in five minutes had he not been having to go slower than usual, but what was important was that he was in time. He took off his mask and tossed it onto his desk, then lazily slapped the spider emblem on his chest which caused the superhero suit to slack and fall off his shoulders and down to his feet. Left in his boxers alone, Peter laid the suit sloppily on his chair-- he may have been exhausted, but this was an expensive suit that was not just going to be left on the ground-- and then belly flopped onto his bed, only moving to pull the covers over himself and curl up a little under them. His head still hurt like shit, but that fight really drained him of all his energy, so a little bit of body aches weren’t going to stop Peter from passing the hell out instantly.

 

The following morning, Peter woke up to his phone blaring music from the Star Trek soundtrack from where it sat charging on his night stand. He hated himself for how loud he put the volume, but at the same time, he knew that he wouldn’t wake up or go back to sleep if he didn’t try to destroy his enhanced hearing. The teen lifted his face out of his pillow, sleepily mumbling quite a lot of broken sentences of self hatred, as he sat up and turned off his alarm.

 

After a few minutes of just staring at his wall, wondering if he should just get up and get the day started, or say ‘screw it’ and go back to sleep, Peter got up and started his morning routine. It seemed like Karen’s prediction last night was right, because when he went to shower, the teen saw that one of his eyes was nearly swollen shut and was a nasty shade of black and blue. Yes, Peter probably should’ve noticed that when he first woke up, but he was still pretty drowsy.  It wasn’t the only thing bruised, however-- the teen’s torso was littered with bruises that’d probably clear up by the end of the day or tomorrow because of his healing factor, and his wrist was also a similar shade as his eye and similarly swollen. Unlike his eye, Peter’s wrist was bent at an unnatural angle. It caused him to cringe, and considered asking May about it. However, stupidly enough, Peter decided against it. May already worked at the hospital, so he doubted she’d want to bring him along just for more work, and he also wanted to test if it’d heal himself.

 

Peter dressed himself in his blue Midtown sweatshirt, the sleeves being long enough to hide his wrists easily and loose enough to not irritate it. Obviously, he couldn’t hide his black eye, so he’d have to be ready to explain to May what happened. Still, the boy didn’t want his aunt to worry too much, so maybe he wouldn’t tell the _whole_ truth. Just the wall part, not that someone threw him into it. He’d be fine soon enough. Peter grabbed his backpack, slung it over his shoulder, then grabbed his little red duffle bag and carried it with his good hand. He was supposed to go with Tony for the weekend after school today, so he just brought with him what he needed for the weekend with him to school and kept it in his locker until the end of the day. Peter took the two bags with him out of his room and into the kitchen. He left the two bags at the doorway for him to grab on his way out.

 

“‘Morning, Aunt May,” the younger Parker greeted. “How’d ya’ sleep?”

 

“Fine,” she smiled as poured herself some coffee. “How’d you--” May stopped mid-sentence when  she turned around and saw her nephew’s face, her expression stern now. “Peter Benjamin Parker, what the hell happened to your eye?”

 

“It’s nothing, really. It’ll clear up in a few days.” Peter assured.

 

“What happened?” She asked, arms crossed. “You were fine when you got home yesterday. Did you get in a fight or something?” Whether if May meant a fight as Peter or as Spider-Man was unclear, but the message was all the same.

 

“I ran into a wall, that’s all,” It wasn’t _not_ true, he did very much hit a wall.

 

“A wall?” She sounded unconvinced.

 

“Yep.”

 

“You just ran into a wall?”

 

“Yeah. I brick was kind of poking out of it, and it got m-my eye.”

 

“Were you Spider-Man-ing?”

 

“Uh-huh?”

 

“So you swung into a wall.”

 

“Y-yeah, yeah. That.”

 

May sighed, “So, you just weren’t paying attention, like usual, then?” Her nephew ran into crap on a daily basis, so his story wasn’t really far fetched.

 

“I’ll be more careful,” Peter smiled, seemingly nervously, but May brushed it off.

 

“Please,” She returned the gesture. “We don’t need anyone thinking I’m some kind of monster beating her kid and sending him to school all screwed up.”

 

They laughed a little, and Peter started making himself a bagel for breakfast before he had to make his way out. It was a little difficult to do with one hand, but thankfully, his dominant hand was the uninjured one and he was able to seem nonchalaunt in his movements.  “Do you want an ice pack, or just some cubes in a plastic bag, for your eye?” May asked, already opening up the freezer.

 

“Um, ice pack. Please and thank you.” Now buttering the bagel, that was hard. Still, nice and casual. Nothing’s wrong.

 

“‘Course, baby,” A few minutes passed and the ice pack was slid across the counter to him. Peter thanked his aunt, and noticing the time, got ready to leave the apartment. Backpack on, duffle bag over the shoulder, an extra sweater on because of the wind chill at the time of day, his bagel in it’s own bag with a paper towel in his sweater pocket, and ice on his eye. Yep, all set.  “Alright, text me when you get to Tony’s,” May hugged him goodbye. “And call me if you get the chance.”

 

“I will, like always,” he hugged back, making sure it was only his forearm and up brushing against her. “What time are you getting off work?”

 

“Not sure yet, but I’ll let you know.” They seperated, Peter starting off towards the door.

 

“Alright, thanks,” he waved a little as he opened the door. “Have a good day, and see you Sunday.”

 

“You too. Be careful!”

 

“I will!”

 

“Love you.”

 

“Love you, too.”

 

The whole doing things with one hand wasn’t really as bad as Peter thought it’d be, there was just not multitasking available. Peter got to, on, and off the train with ease, and his only issue was the occasional bump against his wrist getting off and getting into the school and to his locker. The bagel was very much gone by this point, so Peter put his ice pack sticking out of that pocket as he opened his locker. With the duffle bag and all his stuff jammed in there, save for what he needed for his first two classes, Peter made his way over to Ned’s locker, the usual meet-up spot for himself, Ned, and MJ seeing how Ned usually was the last of them to arrive, and plopped down onto the ground in wait.

 

“‘Sup, loser.” MJ greeted, plopping down in front of the locker besides Peter with her books in her lap.

 

“Hey, MJ,” He returned, looking over at her.

 

“What’s up with your face?” She asked, brows furrowed. “Seems a little early for Flash’s bullshit, but I can still kick his ass before first period. You want me to?”

 

“You don’t need to kick his ass--”

 

“I do if he’s hurting one of my friends.”

 

“It wasn’t Flash,” Peter explained. “I just sorta hit a wall last night.”

 

“Parker luck?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“So, what actually was worse than just hitting a wall then?” she asked.

 

Peter raised an eyebrow, “What do you mean? I really did hit one.”

 

“Yeah, I don’t doubt that you did,” MJ shrugged. “But considering that you didn’t mention the other thing, there’s more to this story that you haven’t talked about.” She paused, and noticed that Peter glanced down at his right wrist as she said this. “So, why didn’t you tell May about your wrist?”

 

“Dude, are you sure you’re not a mind reader or something?” Peter asked, astonished. “How’d you know all of that?”

 

“I didn’t,” she admitted. “I was just guessing. Thanks for confirming it, though. Now, start talking.”

 

“Fine,” Peter sighed. “So, I was doing ‘internship’ stuff last night, right”

 

“Right, right.”

 

“Well, this one guy, the Doc, starting causing some trouble and making a mess. I went to clean things up--”

 

“Without telling Stark?”

 

“Without telling Mister Stark, yeah. _Anyways_ , I was cleaning up the mess, which obviously, he didn’t really like. One thing led to another, and yeah.”

 

“What’d he use? A flyswatter?”

 

“Basically, yeah.”

 

“Should I kick his ass, too? ‘Cause I’m still planning on kicking Flash’s ass.”

 

“I’d pay to see that.”

 

“Twenty bucks.”

 

“C’mon, Peter doesn’t have that much money. You know that,” Ned quipped as he walked up to the two. Peter and MJ scooted over to the each side of Ned’s locker so he could unlock it, get inside, and put his stuff away.”

 

“Fine, how about ten? You think Stark or May would lend you that if I said I was doing your job for you?” MJ teased.

 

“Yeah, probably,” Peter laughed.

 

“Hey, Pete?” Ned asked.

 

“Yeah?” He turned, looking up at him.

 

“First, did you do the spanish homework? My internet was out yesterday, so I couldn’t do it. Second, what the hell happened to your face?”

 

“Knowing him, he did it,” MJ answered for Peter, who proceeded to lean over and shove her leg in retaliation. She ignored him and continued, “And he screwed up his face _and_ his hand interning last night.” Of course, the three of them knew what ‘interning’ meant, but just acted like it was just that at school and in public.

 

“What happened to your hand, man?”

 

Peter rolled his sleeve down a bit to show the broken, bruised wrist. Ned cringed and begged him to cover it back up, but MJ just went _‘huh_ ’.

 

“What the hell, dude? Why.. How were you even allowed to leave your apartment like that?”

 

“May doesn’t know, obviously.” MJ answered, once again.They both looked to Peter for him to give a confirmation.

 

“Yeah, I, uh, didn’t tell her.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Well, you guys know how worried she gets. Besides, it’ll probably heal in a few days, so no worries.”

 

“If it’s not better by Monday, I’m gonna tell May,” Ned pointed out.

 

“Good plan.” MJ agreed.

 

The bell rang just then-- impeccable timing, according to those three-- and made their way to their respective classes. Just like getting ready this morning, Peter was able to get through the day up to when they went outside for the pep rally-- it was just a little difficult, and some things took longer than they normally would.  He got disapproving looks from MJ about sitting on the injury and concerned ones from Ned. Flash made some comments on the black eye, but those were easily ignorable. Thankfully, because of the pep rally his school was having that day, all the classes were significantly shortened. These only happened three times a school year, once at the beginning, one before winter break, and the last being before spring sports started, but everyone loved them because of how short and breezy the days were. The pep rally was decent enough, considering that the three teens just chit-chatted the entire time and that Peter was about eighty percent sure he was going to have a bit of a sunburn now.

 

Peter, Ned, and MJ separated once outside the stadium after the event to go to their different methods of transportation. As he was walking to the line of cars in the front of the school, all waiting to pick up a student, Peter found that he was unable to locate Happy’s usual car. He usually wasn’t late, but he supposed it was a possibility. However, as he neared the front of the line of cars Pete thought he was seeing one of Tony’s more _‘casual’_ Audis. He couldn’t recall anytime Happy picked him up in one of those, so that meant it should be the billionaire himself. It wasn’t like Tony never picked him up before, he had a few times, but usually with some notice so he knew who he was looking for. Peter didn’t think there was any superhero stuff going on, since once again, he didn’t get a text and Tony said he was going to try and keep him in the loop after he expressed his concerns about not knowing what was going on a few months back.

 

“Hey, Mister Stark,” Peter smiled as he dropped his backpack and duffle bag in the back seat of the  car and then climbing in up front.

 

“And hello to you,” the other said, his grin more subtle than that of the teenager. He glanced over at him and began pulling out of the school.  “How was school?”

 

“It was fine,” he buckled up, making sure his hurt wrist was hidden between his side and the door. “Not much happened since it was a half day.”

 

“Better than getting slammed with work, right?”

“Yeah, right,” Peter nodded. “Also, not to be rude or anything, but where’s Happy? I thought he was coming today?”

 

“He forgot he had a dentist appointment last minute, so here I am. Hope you’re not too disapp--” Tony finally got a good look at the kid’s face, causing him to stop mid-sentence and his expression go stern almost identical to May’s earlier that morning. “The hell happened to your face, Underoos? So help me, if someone--”

 

“I’m okay, I swear,” Peter assured. “‘T’s nothing like that, I, uh, just sorta ran into a wall last night. On patrol.”

 

As Tony came to a stop at a stop sign and studied Peter’s face. He tried to look for a crack in the boy’s features that might hint at him lying, because as clumsy as he knew Peter was, something still seemed… off. However, Tony let it be. For now. He was going to dig a little later on. Tony began driving again. “Alright, you’ve got your pass on that for now, Mister Parker. I’m not stupid, just hungry. Let’s get some lunch, yeah?”

 

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, that sounds good,” He didn’t have his lunch period because of the half day-- he was withering away from starvation. “Where were you thinking?”

 

“Depends,” Tony shrugged. “Do you want to stop somewhere, or get something for the road?”

 

“How about for the road?” Peter suggested. “If that’s alright?”

“I wouldn’t have offered it if it wasn’t. Now, I refuse to go to White Castle, so pick-- Burger King or Wendy’s?”

 

“If we go to Wendy’s, could I get a frosty?”

 

“You can have two, if you wanted.”

 

“The second one would probably melt pretty quick.”

 

“Fine, I’ll have it. I planned on stealing a little from you anyways.”

 

“Well then, it’s a win-win, then.”

 

“It is indeed, kiddo.”

 

As per usual, Tony ordered them an unhealthy amount of fast food to share, mostly lined up on the dashboard on Peter’s side. Stark, once again, denied the teen’s offer to pay him back and threatened to take away his frosty if he tried to give him money. He was a billionaire, he didn’t need any more money, let alone from his kid.

 

They ate as they drove up the turnpike upstate to the Compound. Peter would pass Tony his food and with each extra fry the teen gave up, he was allowed to change the radio or play a song off his phone. Stark was a firm believer in _‘driver picks the music’_ , so it was kind of a big deal. Plus, Peter got free reign to play songs he knew annoyed Tony. Some songs were so bad that they just had to replay them so they could poke fun at it. They messed around like this for about forty-five minutes, until Tony noticed that Peter was looking sort of tired. So, he slowly started turning the music’s volume down so that wouldn’t keep him awake. He wasn’t too surprised that Peter was falling asleep in the middle of the day-- according to May, long car rides have been putting the teen to sleep since he was a baby. Apparently, that’s never gone away. Not that Tony was complaining, of course. Sleeping Peter was one of his favorite Peters.

Peter slept soundly after he drifted off, face pressed up against the passenger window and his mouth hung open slightly to allow a small drool trail to exit. Tony smiled softly at that, looking over every now and then as they neared the Compound. He was sorry to have to wake him up when they got there-- the kid just looked so peaceful. Tony was hoping that Peter would wake up by himself, but unfortunately, the kid continued to be a sleepy spiderling as they parked. “Psst, Pete,” Tony spoke in a soft hush as he put his hand on the teen’s shoulder. “Wake up, buddy. We’re here now.”

 

No response verbally, but Peter did stir a bit.

 

“C’mon, Underoos,” He shook his shoulder a little more. “I’ll carry you inside if I have to, but you’re going on the floor. Or I’ll leave you in here with child lock on the doors. Yes, all of them. I made it possible.”

 

“M’kay, f’ne. ‘M up,” Peter mumbled sleepily, yawning as he sat up.

 

“Aw, did the spider-baby enjoy his nap?”

 

“‘M not a b’by…” He unbuckled himself and stepped out of the car, rubbing his eyes. The front of his hair got messed up whilst asleep, so the curls hung loose.

 

“Sure, tell that to your face, kiddo,” Tony teased, getting out as well and grabbing Peter’s duffle bag for him. The kid could get his backpack, he wasn’t carrying everything. “Hey, grab the lunch stuff for me, yeah? We’ll throw it out upstairs.”

 

“Mhm, got it,” Peter nodded. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and grabbed the bag they put their trash in, yawning once more, and walking over to Tony who put his arm around his shoulder and held him close.

 

“You want to go nap or something?” Tony offered. “We’ve got all weekend to screw around in the lab.”

 

“I don’t need a nap,” he protested. “I’m not a baby.”

 

“I know, bud, but you don’t have to be a baby to take a nap. I read that they can be pretty helpful to any age.”

 

“I’m okay, Mister Stark. I’ve got an idea for m’ webs that I want to try, anyways.”  
  
“Alright, your call. Let’s just drop this stuff off in your room first, yeah?”

 

“Mhm, yeah. Sounds good.”

 

So, the two did just that. They dropped Peter’s things off in his room, though they grabbed his suit and web shooters to take with, and Peter also slipped his shoes off to leave in there, too. He almost let the thing with his wrist slip a few times, but thankfully, that didn’t happen and Tony didn’t seem to notice. On their way down to the lab, they dropped the trash off in the kitchen’s trash can. Down in the lab, Peter explained his idea to Tony, and after they reviewed a few ideas and made a game plan, they got to work. They worked mostly in silence, only classic rock playing over the speaker, but it was a comfortable silence. They worked for a couple hours, and finally finished up-- or got to a testing point-- right as it was getting late enough for dinner to be considered.

 

“Alright, kiddo,” Tony slid the teen’s web shooters over to him and having FRIDAY turn the music off. “You should be all adjusted now. Pop the formula in, and let’s test this out.”

 

“Yeah, sure. Just gimme a sec.”

 

“Take your time. I’m going to start cleaning up while you do that. We’re having dinner after this, since it seems like a good spot to stop.”

 

All with his left hand, his right being tucked safely under the lab’s counter, Peter put the new webbing formula in the upgraded shooters, and still managing to do this all with one hand, got the shooter on. He only put on the one, since the idea of wrapping that around his broken wrist-- which _absolutely_ can heal by itself, duh-- sounded awful. “Alright, ready,” Peter notified. “So, what am I aiming at?”

 

“How ‘bout that chair over there?”

 

“‘Kay, got it.”

 

Peter stood up, hand raised, and made a quick shot a the little swivel chair in the corner. Immediately, it was cocooned completely. It was sort of like the web grenades, but quieter, and now, more efficient. If used on something living, they’d still be able to breathe perfectly fine, but not move in anyway.

 

The two high fived for the success. “Looks like you don’t have to worry about anyone escaping now,” Tony smiled.

 

“Mhm, makes things _way_ easier now.”

 

“Alright, let’s try the other one now. Need to make sure to new nozzle works, too.”

 

“Are, uh, are you sure we need to?” Peter questioned. “I-I mean, this one works fine, and I’m actually getting pretty hungry. Can we go start dinner?”

 

“Right after this,” Tony assured, getting suspicious. Even starving or about to collapse from exhaustion, the kid would request _‘five more minutes’_ in the lab. “But we need to make sure this works, because knowing you, your saying that it’s probably fine will make it malfunction when you need it.”

 

“Good point,” He knew he couldn’t argue that, it happened before. Well, time to suck it up and hope this worked. Peter turned his back to Tony and to the table that the remaining web shooter laid. He rolled his sleeve a little, and once again, cringed at the sight. Where he thought that it’d start healing by now, it only looked worse and the black and blue bruising only got darker and spread up to his palm. Peter tried putting it on, but just couldn’t. It not only fit because of the bone bump, but it hurt so bad just to touch. It was like with each bit of contact, no matter how slight, someone stabbed him in the wrist with a knife just pulled out of hell fires.

 

“You okay, kid?” Tony asked, seeing how tense Peter went and how he flinched. He walked over to him, hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing!” Peter quickly turned around and hid his wrist behind his back. “I, um, I mean nothing. Nothing’s wrong. Nope.”

 

Tony rolled his eyes. “You’re hiding something.”

 

“No, I’m not.”

 

“I know when you’re lying, Parker.”

 

“I-I’m _not_ , uh, _not_ lying.”

 

Tony had been around Peter long enough to know how stubborn he was and that if he thought he was fine at one point, there was no way in hell that he’d admit to being anything less. So, he took Peter’s right bicep and pulled the boy’s arm out from behind his back. Concern and frustration contorted the man’s face-- on one hand, he was worried about why this happened and why Peter didn’t tell him about it, and on the other hand, he was pissed off at that this happened and that Peter didn’t tell him or May. Obviously, she didn’t know seeing how Peter left the apartment like that. “Fuck, kid,” he swore. “The hell happened to you?” Before Peter could answer, he  continued and began walking Peter out the door of the lab. “Alright, c’mon. We’re going to the med bay, and then you can explain not only what the fuck happened to your hand, but why you didn’t tell me or May.”

 

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Peter said as he was pulled out the room and down the hall.

 

“Damn right you are. FRIDAY, have Cho ready in the med bay for when we get there.”

 

**“On it, Boss.”**

 

“Mister Stark, it’s really not that bad,” Peter assured. “It’s just bruised, i-it looks worse than it actually is.”

 

“Mhm, _sure_ ,” he rolled his eyes, raising the teen’s arm up a bit. “Because this totally looks fine.”

 

“I-It doesn’t even hurt that much!”

 

As they stepped into the Compound’s elevator, seeing how the medbay was two floors up, Tony gave the teen an _‘are you shitting me?’_ look. “It doesn’t, huh?”

 

“Nuh-uh.”

 

Still looking as though he was entirely done with Peter’s bullshit about being fine, Tony decided to test this by rubbing his thumb gently over Peter’s wrist. The boy winced and tried to pull his arm back instinctively, before laughing nervously. “So, are we still going to pretend you’re fine?” The elevator began to move.

 

He was quiet for a moment, before shaking his head. “No… Sorry. Please don’t be too mad.”

 

“I’m not mad,” Tony sighed. This time, Peter rolled his eyes. “Okay, maybe a little, but only because you tried to hide it from me and May. Obviously, she doesn't know, or you wouldn’t have gone to school.”

 

“Because she would’ve worried too much and take me to work with her, and it’d only bother her and give her more to do.”

 

“Kid, look at me,” He put a had on his shoulder, squeezing it a little. “You wouldn’t bother her, and she’d worry because she cares about you. Still, if you don’t want to ‘bother’ May, just at least tell me. “

 

“Maybe I don’t want to bother you either.”

“Maybe it bothers me when you don’t tell me, so by that logic, you should. I swear, you’re the only kid willing to go the day with a broken bone, and yes, that’s what it is, just so you don’t bother anyone.”

 

“Yeah, I knew it was broken. I’ll tell you next time though, I swear.” They stepped out of the elevator, walking down the hall of the medical wing.

 

**“Boss, Doctor Cho has asked me to inform you that she can be here in fifteen minutes. Today was her day off, so she needs to make the drive.”**

 

“Alright, fine. Gives Pete time to explain,” Tony shrugged. “So, what gave the break away, Mister I-Already-Knew? Let me guess-- was it that bone bump? That looks like it hurt. How about how it’s bending in a way it shouldn’t?”

 

“Well, Karen actually told me, but those two things were a give away too.”

 

“Hold on, you got hurt on patrol, and I wasn’t informed?”  He was a little more mad now. “I’m supposed to get an update for shit like this.”

 

“I, uh, may or may not have convinced her to not tell you,” Peter rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “I did hit a wall though, so it wasn’t like I-I was lying”

 

“Oh, how wonderful. I’m sure there’s more to that wall story though.”

 

**“Should I pull up the footage from last night, Boss?”**

 

“Once we’re in a room, then yeah.”

 

“I could just tell you, Mister Stark,” Peter suggested. Tony stopped, opened one of the doors, and motioned for him to go inside. It was a typical treatment room-- just a cot, machines at the ready in case they were to be needed, two chairs for visitors, a connecting bathroom, and a TV mounted on the wall. It was practically the same as any other hospital room, but more high tech. Also, in this room, there was a hard copy of Peter’s file and any medication he may need immediately. Why was this here? Well, as often as he would get hurt, Tony thought it would be smart just to have some place ready for his walking disaster of a kid.

 

“I expect you to tell me,” the older man said matter-of-factly. “But I am going to double check our sources. Now go sit or something that won’t get you hurt.”

 

Peter sat.

 

“I still can’t believe you got Karen to turn against me,” he ran a hand up his face. “I’m gonna have to install a new protocol in your suit, aren’t I? I want to know when you get so much as a scraped knee immediately. And no, I’m not overreacting, and maybe I’ll remove it one day when you’re less of a walking ball of condensed chaos.”

 

“I don’t think I’m _that_ bad.”

 

“Grey hairs, Pete. Grey hairs. Now, care to start explaining?”

 

“Right, right,” he lightly kicked his legs back and forth from where they hung over the edge of the cot. “So, you remember that crazy scientist guy that made the fake octopus arms? Doc Oct?”

 

“Mhm. Let me guess, you went in with no plan.”

 

“I had a plan!”

 

“ _‘Stop the bad guy’_ isn’t a plan. It’s the goal of the plan.”

 

“...Okay, so I didn’t have a plan.”

 

“Peter,” he groaned. “I only agreed to let you handle that guy because you promised me that you’d have a plan, an escape plan, and would be careful and call me if things got too intense for you.”

 

“I know, I’m sorry.”

 

“We’ll talk about that later. What happened with the Doc?”

 

“Well, I was working on webbing the prosthetics together to make it easier. Four extra arms are a lot to keep track of, but I can handle it. Anyways, I must’ve gotten too cocky and swung too close, because one of them flung me against the wall in front of me. I didn’t react quick enough, so I hit it hard. I tried putting my hands out to break the impact, but… yeah. That didn’t turn out too well.”

 

“Anything else?”

 

“Well, he did kinda knock me out for almost five minutes, but yeah. That’s it.”

 

“That’s it?”

 

“That’s it.”

 

“Alright, FRI,” Tony sighed. “Fact check time. You got the footage from Karen? Play it.”

 

**“Sure thing, Boss.”**

 

With that said, a holographic screen appeared in front of the two, and began playing the ‘Baby Monitor Protocol’ recording from the previous night, accompanied by a timestamp and everything:

 

 

> **_Thursday - April 28, 2017. 10:50:39 PM -- 10:51:14 PM_ **
> 
> _“Shut the hell up!”_
> 
> _“Hey, hey, hey! Watch it! You could really hurt someo--” The camera was slammed into the wall in front, and then fell down onto the ground with a small bounce. The noise was muffled as the camera, as Peter, had been thrown about. A soft and pained ‘ow’ accompanied by some groaning came as off camera, mechanical clinks were heard getting closer._
> 
> _“Stay out of my way, boy, or next time, I won’t be so merciful,”  More clinks, seemingly higher up now. “And one more thing--_ I win. _”_
> 
> _The camera was shaken once more, and Peter’s pained noises came to a stop. All that could be heard was his breathing._

 

Well, the footage and Peter’s story were perfectly aligned, which Tony was glad about, but that didn’t stop him from being absolutely pissed off at this crazy octopus scientist for daring to hurt his kid. Yes, Tony promised the kid that he could take care of this guy-- under Stark’s set conditions,  of course-- but the man felt himself fuming and wanted to track him down himself. But… Peter wanted to prove himself, despite him telling the boy several times that he already had and didn’t need to. It was probably a teenager independence thing, right? God, he needed a _“Raising Peter 101”_ class from May so he could know what was the right decision. Later though. His kid was hurt, and he couldn’t be too upset or else he might not get told when something happens again. Not that Tony wanted something to happen again, but knowing Peter’s luck, something would.

 

“That guy’s lucky he doesn’t leave Queens,” Tony grumbled, running his hands up and down his face. Queens was Peter’s territory, but if the Doc stepped out of there, he was fair game. “You’ve gotta tell me next time, bud.”

 

“I know, sorry,” He looked down at his feet, but then back up at Tony.

 

“It’s not good to sit on a broken bone.”

 

“I know…”

 

“So, we’re not going to pull that crap again, right?”

 

“Right.”

 

“Good. Now, what color cast are you thinking about getting?”

 

“Huh?” Peter asked, a little confused by the sudden change of subject.

 

“What? I got my scolding in and hate having to act like a serious, responsible adult. You still need to deal with May, anyways,” Tony waved his hand a little as he spoke. “You’re going to need a cast for that wrist, obviously, so what color? You’ll have it for a couple weeks, probably, so you better pick something good.”

 

“Well, I’m pretty partial to red, so I think I’ll go with that,” Peter shrugged. He remembered once when he broke his leg as a little kid, he got red then too, and his Uncle Ben helped him paint the cast to look like it was apart of the Iron Man suit. May probably had a bunch of pictures of it still, and he hoped she wouldn’t end up sending them to Tony. Talk about embarrassing.

 

Considering he didn’t say anything to her, she probably would now.

 

“Good choice there, Underoos. I was going to suggest it if you got all indecisive.”

 

As they waited for Cho to show up-- Tony trusted her and Bruce alone to treat Peter whenever he needed it, they understood how to help him the best possible way with how his body was with the spider mutation-- the two turned on the room’s TV and joked back and forth whilst watching part of a  Parks and Rec rerun. Eventually, her heels were heard clicking down the halls, and soon she was popping in the room. “So, Peter,” the woman greeted as she entered. “What’s the story this time? I hope you know that the more I have to come stitch you up, the more years you take off of his life over there.”

 

“See, that’s what I’m trying to tell him. I have heart problems, kid. Thought you liked having me around?” He teased, nudging the arm that wasn’t injured.

 

“I _do_ ,” Peter argued. “I just have really bad luck.”

 

“I know, trust me.”

 

“Well,” Cho interrupted the two’s back and forth. “It doesn’t look like there will be any stitching up this time, but maybe some ice for that eye. Now, what’s going with that wrist?”

 

“I broke it,” Peter explained. “Sorta got hurt on patrol last night--”

 

“--And he didn’t tell anyone.”

 

“So, it’s been over twelve hours since the break first happened?’ She raised a brow.

 

“Mhm.”

 

Cho sighed. “Well, we’re going to get you an x-ray, but I’m fairly certain that we’re going to have to break the bone again.”

 

“Again?” Tony cocked an eyebrow. Peter’s eyes widened as he looked to Tony, Helen, and back at Tony as he held his wrist closer to himself. Uh, it hurt an insane amount just to barely touch his wrist, let alone enough for it to be rebroken.

 

“Um, why are we breaking my wrist again? I thought it was already broken?” Peter asked nervously.

 

“Well, obviously I’m going to need to check the x-ray and take a closer look at it, but with your accelerated healing, your wrist has probably already begun to try and heal itself. Considering the angle it’s bent at, if it has begun to heal, it’ll need to be corrected so no further damage, if any, is done. Plus, we’ll obviously need to rest it so it doesn’t heal at that angle.”

 

“He gets some kind of anesthetic though, right?”

 

“Oh yes, definitely.”

 

Peter and Tony both seemed to relax, the former audibly sighing.

 

“When I check it out, I’ll see how bad the pain is and that’ll determine if it’ll be general anesthesia or a hematoma block, which is just local anesthesia.”

 

“He barely managed when I grazed it with my thumb, if that gives you any idea on what he’ll,” Tony mentioned.

 

“I was fine, i-it just hurt a little?”

 

“You want me to do it again?”

 

“No!” He turned his right side away from Tony, hiding his wrist from him.

 

“Thought so,” He snickered.

 

“We’re going to see,” The doctor interrupted. “ I just need to take a look at it. Is that okay, Peter?” She walked over and sat down on the bed besides the teen, holding her hand out for permission to take his arm. Peter nodded, and then moved his forearm and wrist over to her.

 

Helen gently checked over his wrist, asking him if he could wiggle his fingers-- which he could, but only slight-- and where it started to hurt as she grazed a finger from his palm down and then forearm up. She asked if he could bend or twist his wrist at all, and that, he was unable to do. Correction-- Peter might have been able to bend it a little, but when he tried, the pain was excruciating. After getting a quick x-ray done on the bones, thanks to a recent upgrade for Stark Pads used in the medical wing, Helen was able to confirm that the bone was broken with certainty and got planned on how to correct it.

 

“Alright, I’m going to ready a hematoma block,” Cho informed them, standing up now.

 

“Is there something I can do?” Tony asked, looking over at his kid. Peter looked pretty nervous about the whole having to break and reset his wrist, and Tony couldn’t say that he blamed him. It sounded like it was going to hurt like hell, even with the anesthetic, and he just wanted to do as much as he could. Dammit, this kid’s making him so soft.

 

“Just keep him calm, okay?”

 

“I can do that.”

 

“I don’t know, Mister Stark. “T’s kinda hard to get me calm,” Peter joked nervously.

 

“You doubt me?”

 

Helen had walked out of the room at this point, and returned with the local anesthesia shot not too long afterwards. Upon the sight of the needle, the teen seemed to tense up and Tony moved to sit besides him. It was dumb, but Peter absolutely _hated_ needles. He never said anything, but it was obvious to Tony. He knew the kid better than he thought. “Hey kid,” Stark nudged him. “Mind holding my hand? I’m nervous.”

 

Peter, at first, was a little confused by that, but then smiled slightly, if softly, as he did so. “‘Course, Mister Stark. Don’t, uh, want you freaking out or anything.”

 

“Stark?” Cho interrupted, going along with their little thing, cleaning up where she planned to inject the anesthesia on Peter’s wrist. “Perhaps one of you should get some protection for your hand? That way, neither of your hands get hurt. We don’t need the two of you having matching casts.”

 

“Good point,” Tony let go of Peter’s hand and tapped the tech watch on his wrist. He pulled part of it over and onto his palm. The glove-like gauntlet formed around the man’s hand in only a few seconds, and once that finished, Tony took Peter’s hand once again. “Alright, good to go.” This had stopped a bullet once before a few years back, and with all the upgrades and improvements he’d made to it since, Tony was certain that the mechanism could withstand a stressed spider-kid.

 

“Alright. Peter, you ready?”

 

“Mhm, yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.”

 

“I’m going the inject the hematoma block into your wrist now, okay?”

 

“Okay..”

 

“Just squeeze my hand if you need to, bud,” Tony said, giving a little squeeze of his own. Peter nodded, an seemed to hold his breath as Helen pressed the needle right into the heart of the bruised skin. He winced, bit down on his lip, and his grip on Tony’s hand tightened. With the exposed tip of his thumb, Tony rubbed little circled on the back of the boy’s hand. Alright, easy part over. Now for the hard part.

 

“Very good. Now, on the count of three, okay?” She positioned her hands on Peter’s forearm and wrist. The pressure hurt like hell, but pins and needles began to spread along his hand. He could still feel it, yes, but it was definitely lessened.

 

“Okay… Okay.”

 

“One… two…” Instead of getting to three, Helen, with one quick movement, snapped Peter’s bones back into place. There was a sickening sound that emanated from the quick movement on the bones that even caused Tony to cringe. Peter squeezed his hand as tight as he could, denting the metal with his eyes shut tight. A tear rolled down his face as a result of the pain, and his lip bled a bit from how hard he bit down on it to keep himself from crying out. If it hurt as much as it did with the hematoma block, Peter couldn’t imagine how awful it would be without it. Immediately, Cho took some bandages she had brought with her and began wrapping up his wrist. “Alright, it’s done,” She said, making the cast go from his palm to the middle of his forearm. “Do you want a color or anything special for your cast?”

 

“He said he wanted red before you got here,” Tony answered for Peter who was slowly, if shakily, breathing out and relaxing his grip. It broke his heart to see the kid in pain, but unfortunately, there wasn’t anything he could do besides just be there. Well, that’s what he got for not saying anything, Tony supposed. That should serve as enough punishment for getting Karen to disobey protocol.

 

“Red? Alright, we can do red,” She nodded, going into one of the drawers and pulling out the red tape and wrapping it as the top layer.

 

“Thanks,” Peter said after he’d finally relaxed.

 

“No problem, kid,” He smiled, returning the watch to its normal state and putting an arm around his shoulders. “Hey, doc, got a sharpie or something?” Tony turned to her, struck with an idea.

 

“I believe so,” Helen nodded after finishing up with Peter’s cast, who proceeded to thank her and check it out. She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a simple, black sharpie. “Here, and keep it. I have more than enough at home.”

 

“Thanks,” Tony flashed a smile, taking the marker.

 

“I’m going to head out. I’ll be back Sunday to do a check up, though. If either of you need anything, don’t hesitate to call.”

 

“Bye, and thanks again,” Peter waved.

 

“Try not to give Stark here a heart attack, if possible.”

 

“Trying my best not to.”

 

Once Helen was gone, clicking down the hall once more, Tony uncapped the marker and motioned to Peter’s cast. “You mind if I sign it? People still get their casts signed, right? After the internet trends you’ve shown me, I no longer feel confident in any of my knowledge about your generation.”

 

“Yeah, people still get casts signed,” Peter smiled, holding his sore arm out. “And even if they didn’t, it’s a signature from you, so.”

 

“Wow, I feel pretty special, kid.”

 

“Ha ha,” He said sarcastically.

 

“What? Am I _not_ special?”

 

“Oh you are, but your signature also helps with shutting jerks like Flash up when they say I’m faking the whole internship.”

“Well, you are faking the internship.”

 

“Yeah, but it’s not like I can say the real reason why I’m able to come over here and eat your food and crap.”

 

“You’re right, you’re right. Now hold still, yeah?” Tony uncapped the marker, gently took Peter’s arm, and wrote a little message with a signature beneath it. It said _‘Nice work, kid.’_ It was short and simple, but sweet. Most importantly, it was Tony’s little way of telling off people that gave his kid a hard time about the ‘internship’, fake or not. Well, he would tell them off in other ways if Peter wasn’t so against said ways. Normally, he’d just do it anyways, but Tony didn’t want to break the trust built between them.That was the responsible thing to do, right? Hopefully.

“Thanks,” Peter smiled as he was finished.

 

“‘Course, Underoos,” he stood up. “Now, let’s go make some dinner, yeah? If I’m hungry, you’re probably starving.”

 

“That chair is looking pretty tasty.” Peter joked, standing up as well

 

“Really? Looks pretty bland to me.” 

 

“Your right. It needs some of that steak spice stuff.”

 

“There you go, kid. While you eat the chair, how ‘bout you show me how your aunt makes those amazing chicken quesadillas. I know you know how.” With one hand on Peter’s shoulder, the two began walking out of the room and towards the kitchen. 

 

“I don’t know, Mister Stark. Are you worthy?” The kid smirked maliciously-- or as maliciously as he could. 

 

“I’d like to think I am,” Tony faked being aghast, which brought a laugh from Peter. 

 

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” he nudged the other’s side. “You’re an honorary Parker, you can know our quesadilla secrets. One of them is that May actually just modified a Pinterest recipe.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Mhm. It’s too expensive to get take out all the time and we were both getting tired of the couple recipes she knew, so she started looking for new ones there.” Ben had done most of the cooking, but unfortunately, he never wrote down some of his signature dishes like his almond crusted tilapia died with him. Sure, they could look up similar recipes online, but they weren’t the same.

 

“If you two wanted, I could come over with enough ingredients to feed your whole building and we can try creating something,” Tony offered. He knew neither Parker would accept money for food directly, but he at least hoped they’d accept this. Besides, it could be fun. Tony, much to some people’s surprise, actually really enjoyed spending time with this little makeshift family. It was… well, it was pretty damn wonderful. 

 

The two worked in the kitchen just as intently as they did in the lab, and listened to the same ACDC music as they did. They received help from FRIDAY when it came to the time to cook the chicken, when to flip the tortillas so they’d be the perfect amount of crispy, and even a little bit for how much seasoning to use. Peter tried to do some one-handed, but after Tony slapped his good hand away enough times, he gave up. Instead , the teen sat criss-cross on the ceiling above Tony as he gave instructions from what he remembered seeing his aunt do, holding a bag of ice cubed to his eye. It took two attempts to get it perfect, but once they were satisfied and had made enough to fill Peter’s stomach, they took their feast out over to the couch and began watching Parks and Rec reruns. Tony helped cut up the quesadillas for the kid since he couldn’t exactly do that himself with one hand in a cast, and jokingly asked if ‘the spider baby needed the airplane to eat his dinner’. This would result in a playful shove from Pete and a laughing fit from the billionaire.  

 

Once they were done and cleaned up, ice back in the feezer, Tony took at his phone and pulled up the camera. “Alright kid, we’re gonna send a video to your aunt. You can explain what happened so she doesn’t kill me. Sounds good?”

 

“Yeah, I guess that’s fair.”   
  


“You guess?”

 

“It wasn’t my fault, and she’s gonna kill me.”   
  


“She’ll kill you for not telling her.  _ That’s _ your fault.”

 

Peter groaned. “I know, I know.”   
  


Tony began recording, holding his phone out to get the two of them in the shot, putting an arm around Pete’s shoulders and pulling him close. He was smiling, but the kid? Tony could swear he was pouting. Sometimes, the kid really did just look like a kid. Each time, it managed to surprise him-- with every in their crazy lives, it was easy to forget that Peter was still so young.

 

“Hello there, Miss Parker,” He greeted, and then nudged Peter to make sure he did the same.

 

“Hi, Aunt May,” the teen droned.

 

“The kid and I are just checking in. Everything’s  _ swell _ here, right?” Peter nodded. “We tinkered for a bit, had lunch on the ride up here, and just got through with dinner now. It was a pretty enjoyable day, all and all, but Petey here has something to tell you.” He held up the teen’s casted arm.

 

Peter sighed, “So, you remember how I told you about getting this black eye from patrol this morning? Well, it, uh, it wasn’t just my eye that I hurt. I-I may or may not have broken my wrist as well, and didn’t tell you or Mister Stark about it. He found out when we were working in the lab. Doctor Cho checked it out though, and she said it should be better in like two weeks.”

 

“And no patrol until then.”

 

Peter snapped his head over to Tony, shock taking over his expression. Tony raised a brow as if to challenge the kid to argue. He didn’t.

 

“And no patrol until then,” He repeated, his look a little sour, but accepting. Yeah, he should’ve expected that. The punishment suited the crime-- or attempt at crime prevention.

 

“Well, that’s it,” Tony shrugged. “We’re probably going to watch a couple movies,” He paused, turning to Peter. “And it’s my turn to pick, kid,” He turned back. “And I’ll keep you updated. Have a good night.”

 

“Bye, May,” Peter waved a little. Tony cut the video and sent it to her. “I hope you know that you’ve just given me a death sentence.”

 

“Don’t worry, she won’t kill you,” He waved off. “But you’re definitely going to experience hell.”

 

“ _ Thanks. _ ”

 

“You’re welcome.”

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings, lads and lassies (and all y'all pals in between)!  
> Screw Endgame, I want fluff.   
> And screw the FFH trailer, **I want fluff.**  
>  \- Samuel  
> ( Tumblr & Instagram: ssssssssssssssassssspiderboi )


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